Second Guard (24 page)

“I hadn’t thought of it that way,” Tali said as she resumed raking the dusty ring, weighing what the centurio had said. They worked in silence for several minutes, and Tali
wondered if she might take advantage of this opportunity to ask him about Jaden, and last year’s dead pledge. She’d had little luck so far pursuing conversations with him or the other
centurios, who spoke little to the pledges save their daily instructions and assessments. The attempt to gain information from Centurio Jessa in particular had left Tali feeling as if a door had
been slammed in her face. But she couldn’t miss the chance to quiz Saraky when he was in the mood to talk for once.

“Sir, who was your best student ever? Jaden?”

Saraky nodded and paused before speaking. “Easily,” he answered, scraping at a large mound of dirt. “But he was raised in the Guard. His whole life was spent preparing for
this, and only this.”

“Will he be the next Queen’s Sword, like his father?” Before she could rethink it, she blazed ahead to the next question. “Is that why he travels away from the Alcazar so
much?”

“Perhaps you are not ready for the Clash after all,” Saraky said, turning away from her to store his rake.

“But, sir, I—”

“You do not listen well. Concentrate on yourself, Tali. A warrior’s job is to obey her superiors, not to question them.”

“I’m sorry, sir, I was just curious.”

“Yet another fault. Curiosity will not save you in battle,” he said, reaching for the rake in her hand, the kindness now gone from his words. “Loyalty will. Go. I’m done
with you today, Talimendra.”

That evening, as they had for months, Tali met Zarif and Chey in the Great Hall for a quick meal and then they went to Saavedra’s cottage. Saraky’s rebuke still
stung, and she was grateful for the balm of another quiet evening with her friends. Each day they would share their accomplishments and woes, a spar they had won or a lesson learned the hard way
from a centurio or fellow pledge. Saavedra himself frequently chimed in with small details about riding or fighting that often made the difference in Tali’s next match. In this way, Tali
learned lessons about horsemanship and weaponry without having to suffer them herself. She knew her skills in both areas would deteriorate without practice, so once a week she braved one training
session each with centurios Jessa and Abelino, who seemed to work her relentlessly ever since she’d temporarily defected from their training.

Jaden, too, pushed them harder than ever. His group of pledges had always been small, but now there were mornings when Tali, Zarif, Chey, and, much to their dismay, Drayvon were the only ones in
attendance. Because there were no endurance tests at the Clash, no long runs or punishing exercise drills, Jaden was the single Alcazar centurio who would not be selecting pledges to compete in
Fugaza. Even his most devoted students had come to realize, as Zarif had early on, that their best chance to be selected for the Clash was to specialize in one area of training, and thus spend most
of their time with that centurio.

Nevertheless, Jaden found Tali, Chey, and Zarif facing him each morning just after dawn. He worked them brutally as the other centurios did, but Tali often wondered if he shared the same
reasons. Was Jaden merely trying to best prepare them for the Clash? As for Drayvon, after his humiliating punishment from Commander Telendor, he seemed even more determined to prove himself,
especially to Jaden. And Jaden rewarded his effort by spending extra time with him, offering individual attention and advice.

Tali felt a stab of jealousy whenever the centurio seemed to favor Drayvon. The two black hearts deserve each other, thought Tali, trying to push aside hurt feelings and replace them with
detached observation. Jaden’s face, so often a stormy cloud, had become more and more difficult to read. At times Tali thought he seemed irritated that so few pledges now trained with him,
but other times Tali thought his frustration seemed targeted at something far beyond the Alcazar. His absences had become more frequent now, sometimes only a day, sometimes more, which she and her
friends dutifully reported to Saavedra during their evening visits.

On this particular morning, Jaden had been waiting for them at his usual spot by the big lakeside boulder. He had been gone for two days, and Tali idly wondered if he had been out threatening
salt traders. The thought made her blood boil. How could a centurio train pledges to protect the realm one day, and set fire to someone’s livelihood the next?

As she lapped the Alcazar grounds for a fourth and final circuit, Tali found her mind racing as fast her legs, always circling, but never arriving at the truth. Jaden met them at the finish with
his arms crossed, a red poncho draped around his shoulders. Tali studied his face like a sailor does the weather. Would it be safe to sail in his waters today? For once, no scowl pursed his lips.
To Tali’s surprise, he even smiled when the pledges made it around the last bend toward him.

Jaden clapped both Zarif and Chey on the shoulder as they reached the rain barrel first for a drink. “You pledges will be better prepared for the Clash than all the fools who no longer
attend my training,” Jaden said, glancing over at Tali to include her in his praise.

“Thank you, sir,” they answered at the same time, all three trying to disguise their shock. Jaden rarely parceled out compliments.

“I hope you’re right, sir,” Zarif added, nodding politely at the centurio.

“Doubt me not, pledge,” Jaden answered, his face turning serious again as he marched off in the direction of the stables.

“I doubt him very much,” Chey answered when he was out of earshot.

The three friends said no more as they took turns quenching their thirst and pouring rainwater over each other’s heads.

E
ach day seemed longer than the last. After Jaden had wrung them out, Tali and her friends would split up to train for the Clash. Though Zarif and
Chey spoke modestly about their skills, Tali knew they would both be chosen to compete. Everyone knew it. Both boys were highly regarded by the centurios and well liked among their fellow pledges.
Zarif and Chey were formidable opponents who did not crow when they won a match or a race, or make excuses for themselves during the rare times they lost. Though Tali tried to emulate the even
temperament of her two friends, she had a harder time controlling her emotions. Under Saraky’s watchful eye, however, she slowly learned to melt into each sparring match with increasing
focus. Each day she gained confidence and skill, determined to win a place at the Clash alongside her two friends.

Several dozen pledges had decided, like Tali, to focus on hand combat for the Clash. They had been training for weeks now, and Tali knew that Saraky would be making his selections soon. The
Clash took place every year on the first day of the Yerba Moon, which was only a week away. The intensity in Saraky’s arena was white-hot as each pledge made an effort to be one of
Saraky’s chosen three. That morning, Tali sparred with Bernat, a lithe Moon Guild pledge whose skills in the hand combat arena were second to none. Tali’s arms and legs, even her ribs,
were covered with bruises in various stages of bloom, which Bernat seemed to find again and again with his quick jabs. Tali tried to mask the pain so her opponent would not see her weaken.

Concentrate on his weaknesses instead, she reminded herself, keeping her footwork fast and light as she danced around him. There! she thought, launching herself forward and kicking her right leg
upward. Her bare foot caught Bernat on the chin, knocking him flat. Tali wasted no time. Quickly, she pinned the boy to the ground, locking her arms around his neck until he finally tapped the
ground in defeat. Tali tried to keep her face indifferent as she helped Bernat to his feet, but her victory was hard earned and she could not help but grin. Fortunately, Bernat took the loss
gracefully like a well-trained Moon Guilder, and grinned at Tali in return.

“I shall remember that surprise kick the next time we spar,” he said, placing a hand on his swollen jaw. “I don’t think my sweetheart back in Fugaza will be at all
pleased if I return home toothless.”

Tali laughed. “If it’s true love, she’ll admire you with or without teeth.”

Bernat was about to reply when Saraky approached, prompting both pledges to turn and stand at attention.

“Bernat, you will compete in the Clash, along with Rona,” the centurio said, then turned to Tali and gave her a long look.

He can’t decide if he should send me or not, Tali thought, standing as tall as she could under his scrutiny. “Sir,” she said, lifting her chin and trying to project confidence,
“let me be your third contender. I won’t let you down.”

Saraky narrowed his eyes and Tali held her breath while the centurio seemed to weigh his decision. Please say yes, she thought, squeezing her hands into fists.
Please, please,
please.

After what felt like an eternity, Saraky finally nodded. “Very well. Go now and tend to your wounds, both of you.”

Tali felt her heart race, giddy with excitement. Though she felt like jumping up and down in happiness, she followed Bernat’s lead and bowed before the centurio.

“It is an honor, sir,” Bernat said.

“Thank you, sir,” said Tali.

“You have earned it,” Saraky answered. “Now mend yourselves and rest. I need you in good health before our journey.”

Despite her jammed toes from the kick she’d given Bernat, Tali’s step felt lightened by the good news. Perhaps she would even have time to write home before dinner. As she made her
way back to her room for a bath and clean clothes, her whirling thoughts distracted her and she collided with a servant in one of the Alcazar’s dark hallways. The girl’s face was hidden
behind an enormous basket of bed linens, which exploded from her arms and fell upon the floor. Tali rushed to help the girl put the linens back into the oversize basket.

“Varah?” Tali said, surprised to see the pretty face of the Moon Guild pledge she’d met the first night at the Alcazar.

“Tali!” Varah said, smiling as she refolded a sheet. “How goes your training?”

“It goes well, I…” Tali paused, unsure of what to say. When had Varah become a servant?

“You wonder why I’m a servant now rather than a pledge,” Varah said kindly, reading the surprise on Tali’s face.

“Well, yes,” Tali answered, handing the full basket back to Varah. “I’m truly sorry, however it happened.”

“Oh, but I chose it for myself! I’m much happier now, Tali, relieved even. I could not take the beatings in the ring any longer.”

“I see,” Tali answered, though she truly did not. Surely a few beatings, as brutal as they sometimes could be, were better than six years of laundry?

Again the Moon Guilder read Tali’s thoughts. “You mustn’t feel sorry for me either. I want children someday, and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to have them if I
continued to get punched and bruised every day.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Tali admitted.

“And besides, after my year here at the Alcazar, they’re sending me to serve at the Queen’s Palace in Fugaza. Not only will I be closer to my family there, but perhaps
I’ll get to peek in on some of Twenty-two’s royal balls and parties! They say she wears a new gown at each event.”

Which you will no doubt be laundering,
Tali wanted to say, but she checked herself and smiled instead at Varah’s enthusiasm.

“I’d best scurry now,” Varah called, bustling off down the corridor. “May the Gods bless you and yours!”